Crushed Rose Petals
by penpaninuSessh
Summary: a darker sequel to what could have ended the movie... what if Gaston had won and the Beast had lost the duel? What of Belle and her father? What of true love scarred by darker fate?
1. Dark Beginnings

"Crushed Rose Petals"

A sequel to Beauty and the Beast that hinges somewhat darker….

A Beauty and the Beast fanfic by penpaninu…..

-Author's disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to Beauty and the Beast, it belongs to all those mouse lawyers at Disney and may they hold their sacred banner high! I just had a gruesome thought while listening to some of the soundtrack and this came out.

-Author's note…..I freaking love this movie, it is the epitome about everything good animation can and has done! A few things I KNOW some people will point out by the end…

Yes I know that Gaston has blue eyes. I made them dark in this tale to make a stark contrast between him and the Beast who had shining stars of blue.

I know it's established off-screen that the Beast's name is Adam to the effect of…. I still don't believe it even if the creators say it! He was always just Beast, Belle only calls him that, and my mother backed her up by jokingly calling him "PB, Prince Beast", so Beast he stays. Besides, how many Beasts do you know? I'd say it all the time if I knew someone by that name :P

It's never been established what names the trio of guys that hang around Gaston have, but I'll tack onto Lefou's line from "Gaston" and call them Tom, Dick and Harry. Yes, I know it's a turn of phrase :P I wanted to poke fun at the song anyway.

And here we begin! Or, end with the movie….

"Crushed Rose Petals" chapter one

"Dark Beginnings"

"I've told you a thousand times before, Belle, it's five dozen eggs, not four!"

Belle cringed against the verbal onslaught from her husband and immediately bowed her head in acquiescence. Her lank, brown hair half fell out of her ponytail and fell into her lowered, red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm sorry, Gaston….I must have miscounted. Please, don't be upset," she pleaded. Gaston's broad chest heaved; his rage apparent in his every breath. A dark fire lit his pupils and his gaze fell swiftly to something else. Next, would be her appearance. It almost always was.

"I am angry when MY wife looks as ragged as a beggar!" Gaston complained. He stalked closer, making Belle's spine straighten. She mustn't back up from him…. She had learned the hard way how he didn't like that… Belle forced herself to lift her chin and stare into his hard gaze. Gaston held her cheek in his enormous palm and let her face fall harshly. A gold band glinted from the fourth digit of his hand.

"Always tired, always haggard….you used to be so beautiful!" Gaston yelled. Belle bit her lip and twisted her hands into her dirty apron. An identical band, smaller but just as bright, flashed from her finger.

"I'm sorry," she offered again, her hands trembling. "I was just up all night with the baby…"

ULP, too late, she wished her words back desperately. Quick as anything, Gaston's gaze flashed from her to the basket in the corner of the kitchen. A red-faced bundle flailed little hands and snuffled. If he could keep quiet a moment longer, Gaston could have been coerced into leaving sooner….But no, she had to open her big mouth, and the baby would now cry and things would get a whole lot worse!

"The baby," Gaston breathed, his eyes flashing; whether from impatience of interest, Belle couldn't tell. She couldn't take the chance to find out. Quickly she sidestepped Gaston's broad form and busied herself fussing over the baby's dressings.

Shielded for now.

"Isn't Le'fou waiting for you?" Belle tried to smile and sound chipper, but her vision was starting to blur. Gaston was slowly blending from two, to three, and one was more than bad enough. She was just so tired! If she could only sleep, she could rest, if she could rest, then she could think, if she could think, she could possibly read…..but all of those things seemed not to be allowed her at all. Just a moment's rest, please! Belle prayed silently for him to leave. Just go…. Turn and walk away….

"Mhph. Well, I go to hunt. I'll be expecting the leg of lamb form yesterday's kill for midday meal," Gaston ordered. He collected his hatchet, gun powder and knives, attaching all to his broad belt in various sheathes. The backdoor crashed open and with a blast of icy air, came rotund Le'fou, fat and out of breath as ever.

"R-ready to go, Gaston?" he chirped, eyes alighting at the sight of his beloved hero. Gaston nodded, pulling on his cloak. He was tracking yesterday's debris from his boots onto the kitchen floor as he did so; another mess to clean before they got back.

"I am, Le'fou. Are Tom and Dick coming along today?"

Le'fou nodded rapidly, his double chins jiggling. "Y-yes! They're going to meet us at the second deer stand," Le'fou reported, picking up the carcass bag laid beside the fireplace. He trotted after Gaston, not bothering to give Belle even a once-over. "Harry will be joining us later."

Of course Gaston couldn't resist giving himself a look of his own, and checked his hair in the looking glass hanging beside the door. He had several in the house after all, and all were there for his frequent preening. Finally assessing himself as perfect, Gaston shouldered his rifle and stalked out the door. "Good! I hope to take a buck today, Le'fou…."

The door banged closed behind the unlikely pair along with another blast of icy air. The basket in the corner wriggled noticeably before a "WAH!" split the air. The baby had finally had enough and flailed in protest at the cold intrusion.

Belle had to wonder that he held out this long with Gaston yelling at her anyhow. Then again, his first sensations had to have been hearing Gaston's rages. He must be well and used to it already.

"Oh, Louie…." Belle soothed, bending to scoop her child out of the basket. Louie instantly calmed, soothing Belle as much as she soothed him.

In the turns her life had been forced to after….after the castle….after her time away from this village and….her time with….

Belle gazed into her child's dark eyes. If only they were as blue as chill snow in a winter's moonlight… as blue as….

"I wish to everything your father was HIM," Belle dared whisper the faintest living motion she had left within her heart. Her son burbled and sucked on his fist. He had her dark hair and Gaston's black eyes. Were they as blue as her love's….as blue as the Beast's.

"I never even knew his name….his birth name…' the memory impounded into her daily drudgery and the pain knifed through her chest, acutely physical and more than emotional. Belle hugged her child, tears blurring further the tiredness in her eyes. 'He was just the Beast…MY Beast…but my prince…'

The Beast had been angry once too, Belle remembered. She laughed bitterly, her gaze falling on the trappings of the morning meal, the pots and pans she had to scrub, the cold hearth that never warmed her soul as HE had once…. Deep inside, away from Gaston's supervision and scrutiny, she was as angry as the Beast once was, deep within her truest self. And it was an anger more holy than her husband showed in his daily tantrums.

Husband! Ha! Belle pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and swept the baby away to the front room. Anyone but him! But Gaston had…he had….

This morning he had collected his knives and hatched, to hunt with his friends. The same knives that he had used to…to…..

And here she had once upon a time, felt sorry for him! Never again, Belle thought, her daily despair sucking at her soul. The image of her Beast's smile when she was alone never kept the pain away. It just would not go, and was deeply part of her now. And one day, it would consume her utterly and completely. 'How could I have ever felt sorry for Gaston?'

Poor Gaston, beloved champion of the village. He hadn't always been the he-man of the village. He'd had to earn it. Belle wondered how he could have become this way…this posturing, unsatisfied…animal…..but growing up in the same town, Belle had watched from her home as Gaston had had to follow his father out to hunt in the woods each day, the heat of summer and cold snap of dead winter. That skinny boy had craved adoration, his father's and everyone else's, so he had worked on his body as if he were hunting away his failings and weaknesses. He ate, and exercised, and was angry until his muscles grew in proportion to his standards for himself. Only after his father had died, and the townspeople were crying his every deed, did his rage retreat.

'Not completely, however,' Belle thought, her gaze idling at its place on the floor. She may have been one of the only ones to have seen the small flashes of it, radiating briefly in his eyes in public, to his rages behind closed doors.

His rage was a very wild and real creature, and would never completely disappear. It would never give her a moment's peace.

Unlike the Beast's. He had stopped, softened in response somehow….fallen in love with her, showed tenderness …and she had slowly, inexorably, and very completely, fallen in love in return. It was storybook love made real, as painstaking as it sounded.

But now he was…he was….

End for now

Author's note: I know this was short! I have more written by hand, and will post it soon. I just wanted to get some of this out as soon as I could! I hope anyone and everyone enjoys, and please, review review! Tell me anything you think! Like it? Hate it? Drop a line, it only takes a second to hit the button!

What happened to the beast? Where is Maurice? Will Belle catch a break? To be continued…..


	2. Dark Drudgery

Author's note: I realized a mistake in my note last chapter, it's Tom, Dick and STANLEY! Those are the lyrics from "Gaston" :P Luckily they hadn't shown up yet for me to make a bigger moron of myself….

On with the story….where is our poor Beast and why all the household drudgery?

"Crushed Rose Petals" chapter two

"Daily Drudgery"

Belle blinked hard. She couldn't think too much on him, lest she faint into sobs again. She found when she did cry, it was impossible to stop…. Gaston had beaten her bloody when she had cried for him first they were married. And her staring son needed her, to be collected, and completely in control…

And bedtime was so far off. Only in dreams did Gaston leave her alone, and she walked in green fields with the Beast. He held her in massively powerful arms, but never did he strike her. Or make her feel unsafe….

"Louie, let's go to it, shall we?" Belle said dully, trying to sound brave. The baby gurgled and drooled a fine line of spit. Belle wiped her hands on her apron, and fetched a clean square of linen from the side wardrobe to wipe his face. Her father had warned her to be careful of small organisms that caused illness, called germs….

Papa! Belle scrubbed a wrist across her eyes hard as tears threatened to well again and re-puffen her already reddened gaze. The entire town thought his studies were insane, thought he was crazy!... And after the night Belle had been dragged away from the castle (her screams had torn her throat to bloody ribbons), Gaston had made well and good on his threat and had had Maurice committed to the asylum, Maison de Lune. Her papa had to share quarters with the mentally ill, the truly insane. His few possessions had been stolen or broken by inmate and guard alike.

And the last time he had seen her, Belle had been round with their enemy's child, helpless to her fate…

'Papa tried to claw his eyes out,' Belle thought dully. 'He used to call Gaston a handsome fellow, but then he refused to help Papa find me at the castle. He rallied the town against my Beast….and ruined both of our lives.'

Her daily life was a mockery of what she had learned to love and care about. Not once had she ever seen herself as Gaston's wife, having seen through his façade more than once on occasion, if surely the villagers could not. Especially after she had seen true kindness reflected in blue eyes…

Belle plunked her child back into his basket and tightened her apron around her in a resolute knot. The dress she was wearing was threadbare around the hem, just fine for her household duties. But if she were to go out to market or receive visitors, she had better not be wearing it. Madame Gaston had better look the part and be properly dressed. Belle shoved a lock of hair out of her eyes and jogged outside to use the water pump for her mop water.

She came inside with the sloshing bucket before her son had time to sniffle and cry. She handed him a stuffed rag doll she had sewn for him and the baby promptly sucked on the head.

Belle allowed herself a moment to watch, an instant of warmth searing her frozen interior. Her child, clutching a doll she had modeled after the Beast…. She couldn't sew a cape or attach horns lest Gaston really know who the doll was fashioned after, but the fuzzy rag man was covered with light brown fur. She had sewn bright blue buttons onto the doll's face for eyes, but Louie had long since chewed them off.

Beast….

Belle turned her head and grabbed the scrub brush, scrubbing hard on her hands and knees. The hem of her dress dragged through the wet patches, making her shiver. As afterthought, she pushed the baby's basket closer to the fireplace.

Finally, the floor was clean. Belle leaned back and wiped her brow with her wrist. It took much too long the hard way… Maurice had invented a long-handled mop that was obviously easy on the knees, but was different from other cleaning devices in that he had fashioned a switch to the mop head that squeezed water out all on its own. If only she were back in the days she could use his wonderful inventions…

But Gaston had said they were instruments of the devil, or an insane mind; if they helped the work to go faster, she would have time to read, and he wasn't having any of that. Belle recalled when housework took up only a portion of her day, and she could take the rest to reading whatever she liked and whenever. Maurice had been easy-going about the cooking, and often they cooked together.

But numbing her brains seemed to be Gaston's goal in life. And dinner with him was another matter. She had better have all his meals prepared for him or else, and spot-on-time.

He had always been a mean jerk, but now he showed his displeasure in harsh ways. Once it had been her wrist sprained by his tightened grip. Another time, her knee kicked and nearly broken. Her face was constantly slapped, and her eyes were red from constant tears while alone.

And then there was not to mention the almost daily physical attentions Gaston demanded of her. Belle's lackluster gaze drifted dully to the edge of her dress, her fingers red from the scrub brush. She had never read that physical love could be this bad, this harsh. She had only time with the Beast to touch his hand, embrace him simply. If ever she were to share what Gaston took from her, it would have been with him somehow…. Never mind his appearance, never mind if they were so different bodily. He would never have hurt her...

Belle pressed a fist to the side of her head, then carried the pots from the morning's meal out the back door and sluiced another bucket of water. She laid the sticky pots in, and on looking to either side, produced a small pouch stashed in her apron pocket. Inside was an invention of her father's, a marvelous soap powder that cleaned anything in a matter of minutes. She pinched a handful and pocketed the rest of the contraband soap from view. She didn't have the time to scrub the grease off before doing the market shopping, so she would let them soak and do it in the afternoon.

Belle preferred the market shopping in the morning as it were. Gaston would still be in the woods with Le'fou and his friends, and she wouldn't chance to run into him outside the tavern.

And she might have time to venture inside….

The baby sniffled and Belle collected him, walking to the back bedroom with a stiffened gait. The bedroom she shared with…. It was more his room than theirs, definitely Gaston in all its male trappings and furnishings. The wolf skin spread across the huge bed filled Belle always with a thread of revulsion. It was gray and white, far from the coloring of the Beast's pelt, but the analogy was too similar…

Belle sat in the rocking chair Gaston had had whittled, and set to nursing her son. She sighed, trying not to look at the bed. If her father hadn't been committed to Maison de Lune, she would have given up and run away long ago. She would have found a way to the castle and hidden, or taken one of Gaston's guns….

But her father was still alive, and his sustenance depended on how she pleased Gaston. Papa had long ago begged in hoarse whispering that he wasn't worth it, keeping her chained to a man that was a monster so that he could live. But no matter how good an argument Maurice made, Belle knew she could no more abandon him to the Maison's devices, than she could forget the best time of her life.

Belle laid Louie on the wolf skin rug, and changed into a maroon long-sleeved dress. She tied a plain white apron on top, her personal look. With disgust, she fastened a gold necklace around her collar. It was an ugly gift, an obvious display of Gaston's wealth and pride, and it needled all her sensibilities. May as well lay an iron collar tight 'round her throat; it would achieve the same affect.

Belle brushed out her once-lustrous brown hair and fastened it back into its customary ponytail. The ribbon she used was the same shade as her dress. With her new thick cloak, she looked every bit a respectable wife, THE wife of a prominent man.

Belle hated it. She turned from the mirror and bundled her son up in more layers. Winter was hard coming on, and she couldn't possibly risk a chill for him.

Out into town. One thing about her station, Belle never had to lock up. No one but a fool would dare rob Gaston's home; those that wanted to live to tell about it, anyway. She'd always had to lock every door and window at her father's home. The townsmen loved to tamper with his machines and scatter his tools around the yard.

Belle sighed and collected the baby basket, and a smaller basket in her other arm, going out the front door. As she made her way down the pathway, the neighbor women stopped sweeping the walkway to smile and call out greetings.

"Belle, hello! A wonderful day, isn't it?"

"Oh, and is that the baby? He looks just like Gaston!"

Belle waited and nodded, a customary smile crooked on her lips. Her make-up had been expertly applied and her reddened eyes masked. She looked every bit the envied wife. But couldn't these clucking hens hurry and let her on her way? She had barely enough time so she could see….

"Yes, thank you….a wonderful day," Belle agreed. The wind was brisk and cold, the sun never casting a spot of warmth in this winter day. Belle loved it, however. It had been snowing when she was at the castle….

Finally, the housewives let her go, and immediately set to talking behind her back. Without a book to freeze the words, Belle heard every syllable.

"She's looking well, well, better as it is."

"She had a rough time, being held captive by that Beast. But luckily Gaston saved her!..."

"Have you seen its head, though? It was enough to frighten me to death!"

Belle cringed and clutched the handles of both baskets with white-knuckled fingers. They had no idea who the monster was…. How she had pleaded and begged, and he hadn't listened….

Jangling of store bells above her head eased the clucking comments as Belle pushed into the bakery door. The shopping for the bread and cheese didn't go so badly. The baker always was rather self-absorbed in his work and barely gave her the time of day.

The cheese maker, an old bent white-haired man, always had a sweet smile, but even he was swayed by Gaston's majesty.

'And isn't everyone?' Belle's mind rang dark. She tucked the cloth-wrapped cheese into her second basket, and hoisted the baby's up with it. The cheese maker ran around the counter to open the door for her and raised his cap from his balding head. Belle managed a small, genuine smile as she exited to the chorus of changing bells. Small touches of kindness from the more quiet townsfolk made her think and re-inspect her troubled heart. If they had been part of the mob that fateful night, they hadn't been an active part, staying behind from the main party.

A further act of kindness threatened to undo her existence when she chanced to pass the book keeper's shop across the square. "Belle! Belle! Wait a moment!" the bespectacled keeper, fellow bookworm and some of the town's truer stuff in Belle's book, stopped sweeping his doorway and waved excitedly. A small tome flipped out of an apron pocket and Belle stopped, seeing her happy past cascade before her eyes.

Louie squirmed and squalled in his basket, panging her heart further.

"I can't stop, monsieur! Maybe another time," Belle smiled regrettably. The book keeper bent to collect his novel, and regarded his favorite customer with barely restrained shock.

"But, Belle….we have new books from Paris! I knew you'd want first crack at them, so I've set them aside…"

Belle wanted to wrap her arms around his skinny shoulders and weep, and it took all her might not to reach for him. It wasn't just the words on paper she missed, it was everything! Her father's warm living room, reading aloud to him at supper…. Not to mention sharing this passion with….

Her cheek had been pressed to a warm shirt sleeve, fur rustling beneath. Claws had turned the pages of their life together as they sat, an eternity of contentment….

"No thank you, monsieur! Another time, I promise you…." Belle demurred politely. The book keeper gave her an odd look but grinned it off.

"It's alright, Belle. I know you're a new wife and very busy….just don't forget your interests," he advised.

Belle's new shoes clacked to a stop on the cobblestones, her hands clutching her baskets tightly. Deeply she took a shuddering breath. "If only you knew, Monsieur…"

The town's tavern stood empty and silent on the corner of the square, and Belle sidled close. She caught a glimpse of blond hair down the way, and pushed open the double doors hurriedly. If she ran into one of the Triplets, she really wouldn't get to do what she came to do.

Even if it killed her each time she came….

The tavern was dusty and unlit, closed for business so early in the day. Belle waited just inside the door, and heaved a huge sigh. In the far corner, above the huge fireplace…. Don't look yet, don't look…!

Belle set her shopping basket down, and plucked Louie out of his. She took her time adjusting his blankets, her heart thumping an irregular rhythm. It clanged so hard it was like to split her breast in two…

Belle took a deep shuddering breath, but felt no more filled. Her gaze dimmed as she exhaled and truly she couldn't breathe. Don't faint…don't faint!... You've seen it before….. This is not the first time!

'Not it, HIM,' Belle thought fiercely.

Slowly, lest she disturb her memories, Belle moved past the edge of the bar towards the heavily furred and antlered high-backed chair, the bear-skin rug (this time beside the chair in the corner; always it seemed to change positions each time), there, the very edges of the stonework around the tavern's enormous hearth….

Belle finally swept her gaze all the way up….past the deer heads and boar heads….and settled upon the visage of her love.

Gaston had been cruel in his taxidermy instructions. The Beast stared out behind vacant glass eyes, his precious blue long been laid out for the crows and unseeing her brown-eyed gaze forever. His lips had been separated, slightly agape; Gaston must have been going for a snarl, but he seemed to Belle to be mutely pleading with her. His horns had been polished, his furry cheeks laid in careful waves.

And now….Belle stopped, her world crashing to silence as it always did. Her love, the only person she had loved as a man….and here he was laid to rest, mounted high up and it was all her fault.

"I'm so sorry, Beast!... It's my fault, all my fault!" Belle finally whispered the words she thought in private every single day. And finally brought to light, the tears came….opened from a surging dam that wouldn't stop. No…. no….

That night she had been kneeling in his blood, her gaze shimmering to black from the blow Gaston had struck her….the Beast had been roaring for her, his cool blue gaze stilling to darkness as he reached for her….claws stretching….

"No!..." Belle knelt on the wooden floor, clutching her child. Soon her sniffles became unabated wails as she tried to suck in breath through her sobs. Her nose ran onto Louie's blanket, his tiny hands flailing at her cheeks as he cried with her.

On and on the grief surged and rocked her small frame until Belle knew she would choke from it. If her body hadn't made HIS child's, she would have found the gun or the knife and turn to her love in green meadows she could only dream in torment of.

Oh, Beast!

Belle was so drawn inward she failed to hear the click of the double doors, the hesitant footsteps venturing near the bar. When her name was softly called, cold stark reality froze Belle and chilled her blood. Someone had caught her here with his remains, had caught her crying over his loss….she had announced to all she all but cared for him that horrible night, but to WITNESS it!...

Gaston would be told, he would hurt the child next if not her…

"Who…" Belle sprang to her feet, scrubbing her eyes with the edge of the baby's blanket. His cries shifted to snuffles…thank god he regained his composure quicker than she could.

A vision of blond hair danced in the corner of her blurry gaze and Belle scrubbed her eyes with one hand. One of the blond triplets ventured closer, her hands twisting. "I thought I'd find you here, Belle…." she said.

End for now

To be continued!

Note: Hehhe the mention of the bearskin rug comes hot off the commentary on the dvd, where the director and producers point out the animation flub of the bearskin being in front of the fireplace almost like it's alive and thinking….then in next frame, is beneath the chair! I found this hysterical for some reason so in it goes :P Personally I think that effing thing is pretending….

And one of the triplets! I've heard they're referred to as the Bimbettes, kinda funny, but I have something else in mind….


	3. Sagelike Advice

Author's Disclaimer: I own nothing from Beauty and the Beast, nothing at all but these words chronicling around the Disney characters. And that doesn't cash in, so please take it that I'm pouring out my heart for free.

Author's Note: A lot more drama, (A LOT) came out by this chapter's end than I initially had thought previously would. So mature audiences only! MATURE only! And on that note, I'll step out for a moment…

"Crushed Rose Petals" chapter three

"Sage-like Advice"

The sole Bimbette sister walked slowly toward Belle, her hands fluttering like pale, frightened birds. Belle backed up with her son as… Muffy? ...Sissy? What on earth were their names again?... kept advancing. Louie pressed against her neck, snuffling in unspoken agony. His curly brown hair rubbed her cheek. Belle's blood chilled, knowing this wide hanger-on would blab about what she'd seen to her other sisters, and together they'd tell Gaston.

She backed full up against the stone hearth, directly beneath the Beast's head. He seemed to be staring out over her, ready to guard her from forked tongue and crooked words. If only this were so! Before Belle could form a strategy or try to escape, the blond, voluptuous woman held up a hand.

"It's alright, Belle. I didn't come to cause any trouble."

Belle still refused to relax. She was one of the Triplets, the blond sisters who flanked Gaston at every turn whether on the street or in this bar. She was a flatterer, devoid of concern and a vast admirer of her worst enemy. She didn't trust her as far as she could throw her. Which, considering how exhausted she was since Louie was born….hell, ever since the wedding, in fact…. wouldn't be past her new, polished shoes.

"Would it hurt your feelings if I said I didn't trust you?" Belle's truer mind answered, before her trained tongue could pull back the words. Truly, they were from her more lucid, truer self, but spoken aloud and made real….could mean grievous pain, or even her own demise.

And Louie needed her more than a life alone with his father, as Gaston had had once upon a time when they were both children…. She was more than dead, however; this Bimbette wouldn't see mercy when loyalty to Gaston were in question.

Belle's fingers tightened in Louie's blankets as she awaited the inevitable. The blond woman merely smiled sadly, and looked from Louie's red face to Belle's tired eyes.

"I suppose I wouldn't blame you…. Were I you, I wouldn't trust me, either," the sister shrugged, trying to appear casual. An air of weariness clung to her artful attire, which snagged at Belle's tired attention. Truly, on second glance, this blond sister looked as heartsick as she felt every second of every day. There was something just dodgy to her eyes…

"But, aren't you angry Gaston married neither you, nor your sisters?" Belle inquired. The band on her finger burned, but a reassuring cold pressed against her middle. Belle could almost feel the Beast's large hands on her shoulders as he leaned behind to whisper into her ear…. What? What was it? What was he trying to tell her..?

"I'm beyond that," the sister leaned against the side of the bar. She fiddled with an empty, polished tankard and pushed it back slowly. It glided along the polished surface of the bar. "It's all beyond my control now, anyway."

"I thought you were over the moon for him," Belle pushed on. The sister's eyes flashed to meet hers, and Belle noted a guarded look. The blond woman blinked, and the moment had passed. She smiled sadly and touched Louie's tiny fist.

"I suppose I was rather smitten….he is a strong man," she admitted. "But that was before all those times…"

"Times he what..?" Belle asked carefully. She reached out and took the sister's hand. The blond woman looked at their entwined fingers, but didn't take her hand away. She seemed to be grappling with herself in ways that Belle was all too familiar with.

"When he…took… what he wanted," the sister bit her lip and lowered her eyes. When she raised them, she squeezed Belle's hand. "Belle, please, if there's anything I've learned, it's this; give him what he wants. It's the only thing that calms him down."

Belle choked back a sob as brilliant blue eyes filled her mind's gaze.

"I have to… I have a child…and he has my papa," Belle moaned. The sister let Louie take her finger in his fist. She shook his hand slowly back and forth.

"It's not true what they say, is it? Your father's not crazy?"

"No! No… he isn't," Belle set Louie in his basket and lifted her white apron to her eyes. "He's not crazy… but I had to do it…."

The sister smiled sadly, and her eyes glazed over Belle's shoulder…. towards the hearth….

"And he murdered him….your Beast. He wasn't a monster, was he?"

Belle squeezed the other woman's hands as her body swayed and sobs threatened to shatter her. "He was my friend…. And I loved him," she whispered. The meaning of her heart's life beat strongly once, twice….before reality froze it to no more. Too soon the feeling ebbed! Too soon, forced to this cold life!

The sister nodded and impulsively pulled Belle close for a hug.

"I knew it had to be so….you always were the smartest girl in town. And Gaston was so intent…"

Belle clasped her arms around the sister's back and swayed against her.

"Forgive me for asking, but what was your name again?"

The blond woman laughed genuinely and pulled Belle to arm's length. "We grew up together and you have to ask?"

"I could never tell you three apart," Belle admitted ruefully.

"It's Miffy," Miffy smiled, the tiny beauty mole beside her mouth lifting. Belle knew, then, how to tell her apart from her sisters. "And don't you forget it."

"I won't," Belle said and laughed a little inside her head. Sissy and Muffy were her first guesses, so she hadn't been that far off at all.

8

8

8

8

8

Belle's trudging steps had taken her away from friendly words spoken outside of her dreams, long echoing in her ears. "Remember, Belle, give him what he wants. And it'll all be okay," Miffy had said, waving. She was staying behind to get ready to open the tavern for the evening, and to wait for her sisters.

Belle hurried on; truly she had lingered too long and she must return to…. Maison Gaston. A large hunting cottage built of grey rock and cherry wood tree. Gaston's father had built it for his family, and after his untimely hunting accident, had left it for his brute of a son. Belle stood on the walkway, torn, two baskets clenched in white-knuckled fists. The dirt walkway past town square led to her father's old home on the outskirts of the village. Oh, Papa…

Her clacking shoes led her way from the downtrodden path no one traversed anymore and to her new abode. It was merely a building of stone and wood with ugly furnishings…..it was not truly home. Belle set her baskets down inside and hastened to light a lamp before collecting Louie. Daylight was quickly dwindling and by first glance, she had maybe an hour before Gaston came home for dinner.

She hadn't been there to make his midday meal and Belle didn't even want to THINK about what his first reaction would be. Belle lit the hearth in the kitchen and set Louie's basket on the large table. Her son truly boggled and stared as she ran and bustled all over to prepare the evening meal.

Chop chop, a knife flew over vegetables. Clink clink, the banging of a large metal spoon in the stewpot. The mixture inside bubbled and popped merrily and Belle took small samples to make sure the flavor was just right. The familiar orchestra over swept her with nostalgia, and Belle almost looked for her evening read before reality again proved too cruel.

She may have made stew in her old home for Papa, but there was no place for the old in the new. And there were surely no books here.

Louie's small snuffles rended her heart and she ran to rock his basket a little to calm him. Night was fastly falling and she was running out of time. "Hnn! Hnn!" he squawked as Belle lifted him out to hold. She managed a quick smile.

"Quickly, son, let's get you ready," Belle said and hastened with him to the back bedroom. He needed a changing and to be dressed for bedtime. Belle blew a lock of hair out of her face as she changed his soiled wrappings and got him presentable. A quick glance in the large looking glass made her groan; her hair was royally mussed and a stain that looked remarkably like stew was smeared across her apron front.

Belle changed aprons and hurried to brush her hair. She sighed that she must be so intent on her appearance, that her current life must dictate it. Her face felt swollen from yesterday's tirade, and she didn't want to go through with another physical reprimand. Bedtime would come soon and a moment's peace….

Belle conceded defeat, deep inside, when her source of love were taken from her and her father was as yet still alive…. But Gaston had pushed her past any one person's limits. She remained in line only because she had delivered a child…..

But there wasn't much else to keep her tongue from flying…. She conceded she had a temper deep inside, when indignity unwarranted aroused it. She had argued with the Beast, when he had been once unreasonable. She had thrown Gaston's original proposal back in his face.

Indignity unwarranted… Gaston had taken everything she held dear and she still had become his wife. Belle's reflection made her want to sag and fall…she HAD to, for Papa, but still…. Still..! she had done it.

"It is not your fault, Belle," a deep voice whispered near her ear. Belle whirled, hands wide to grasp her love. Beast! But just as quickly, his memory had walked past.

It HAD been a memory, right? Belle looked in every inch of the bedroom, tired eyes hopeful. Nothing. No trace of him, no whisper of hope. She had to pause and close her eyes hard. Focus…. To get hold of herself…. before she picked up her son. In a daze, she walked through the sitting room to the kitchen.

Laughter rang from outside the back door; oh no, Gaston must be back already. He was yucking it up with Le'fou outside, so she may have a bit of time. Louie wriggled impatiently when she set him back in his basket on top of the table, but Belle didn't have time to placate him.

She stirred the stewpot one more time; just right, it had turned out alright…. And in a whirl of skirts, Belle ran for the china bowls from the pantry, and the silverware. Gaston may be a huntsman, but he still demanded all the finery of a gentleman.

A gentleman… Flashes of those large paws encased by elegant sleeve lace erupted in her mind; a true gentleman who could barely even grasp the fine dining ware. In a moment of lucid spite, Belle wished that dining set from the castle could dance its way into her kitchen. 'They would stab Gaston silly when he picked them up," she thought.

But this was now, and her friends were all far away. It pained Belle to think if most were okay, if not alive, after the attack. She hadn't found a way to find out. The Mirror was still missing, and Belle had no idea where Gaston could have hidden it. He could have destroyed it and she would never have known!

Gaston's bellowing laughter echoed just outside the back door and Belle laid the last spoon down with a hurried clang. "Don't you worry, Le'fou, I'll straighten all this out," he was booming.

"Will you be at the tavern later tonight, Gaston?" Le'fou squawked. Yes, the tavern… Belle began to pray in earnest. 'Go there, please!'

Usually when he went, he would be too drunk and tired to demand anything else of her later on. Most of the time, he would be…. But Miffy would be there. Now Belle had to worry about her new friend.

"Maybe," Gaston drawled. "We'll see…"

Belle clasped her hands before her as the back door banged open and a slice of ice wind swooped into the warm kitchen. Gaston must have had a successful hunt, for spots of blood dotted his tunic and hairy forearms, left from a splotchy wash-up, no doubt. He had left his musket outside, and was carrying in one of her cleaning buckets from outside. Belle had to wonder why, and froze.

She had let something slip. The look in his dark eyes told her she was all the more in trouble than words could ever say, and he was going to let her have an earful as it was. Belle tried not to back up, but her feet wouldn't obey her thoughts. Her subconscious movements pushed her in front of Louie's basket, which was where she ought to be before the storm came.

Le'fou, lounging in the doorframe, was oblivious to the mounting tension, as usual. "Well, goodbye, Gaston!" he waved, before slamming the backdoor. Snow settled on the wooden floor from the stifled outburst.

Silence reigned between the two. As usual, Gaston broke the forming ice. "You weren't here when I stopped for midday," he said in an accusatory tone.

Belle's mouth went dry. She had been at the tavern to see… to see… and then had been with Miffy. She had overshot her time; and worst, she had absolutely no explanation.

"I…I'm sorry," she said.

"Not only that, but I know where you were," Gaston smirked, a gloating smile stretching his lips momentarily before a spasm of rage wrecked his features. "SO, what is this?"

He tossed the bucket at Belle's feet and a wave of soapy cold water sloshed out and drenched her shoes. Belle jumped back automatically, and she looked up into flashing, dark eyes.

"I… it's… it's soap powder… to wash the…" she faltered but Gaston lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. "Gaston, you're hurting me!"

"It's a device of your father's isn't it?" Gaston demanded. Caught in his grasp, Belle could neither deny, nor even think of a way out. "Isn't it?"

"Gaston! Stop it!" she gasped. Tears flashed behind her eyes as pain shot up her arm.

"I've told you before, Belle, we don't need his crazy THINGS inside this house!" Belle's teeth rattled as he shook her.

"Stop it!"

"Now, you tell me WHY you were talking to that woman in the tavern today!" Gaston bellowed and adrenaline flushed through Belle, making her hands shake and tremble. He knew! Of course he knew….Did Miffy tell him? Or one of her sisters?

As Belle was pulled up towards Gaston's frightening height, a colder thought pushed at her psyche… did Miffy really have a choice?

"I..!" Belle smacked into the broad wall of Gaston's chest and she pushed her hands against him. "I was only talking with her!"

"It was about HIM, wasn't it?" Gaston sneered and Belle watched him in true amazement. He had won, and still he was JEALOUS..! "You went to see his head on my trophy wall! You went to see HIM… when are you going to get it, Belle, he's dead and I've got you now!"

The Beast looked up from a book and smiled shyly at her in Belle's memory. Belle's heart lurched and she shoved Gaston hard, one hand moving against his lips and cheek.

"You may have me, but I'll never love you! I loved him, HIM!" Belle screamed, hot tears sliding down her cheeks. Gaston goggled at her, holding his cheek like a spurned woman. He glowered and advanced on her. But this time, Belle held her ground.

If it were out, so be it. It was a long time coming, anyhow.

"Don't say that!"

"HIM!"

"He was a monster!"

"YOU'RE the monster!"

"BE QUIET!" Gaston raised his hand and slapped her. He didn't gauge his strength this time and Belle fell like a sack of flour from the force of impact. Her knees struck the floor, breaking her fall, and heat flamed her vision as she looked up with rage at her husband.

"You'll never be the man he was…"

"SHUT UP!" Gaston grabbed the front of her apron and hauled her bodily to her feet. Her shoes hung in midair for a second from his forceful lift before she was set down, HARD. Her teeth clacked from the double-thump.

"And I will NEVER LOVE YOU!"

Gaston's broad chest was heaving, his hands rough as he tore at her dress. "Belle, I'm warning you, DON'T SAY THAT!" A flicker of irrational fear flashed in his dark orbs, but just as quickly, hot rage suppressed it.

Her justification filled her heart, but in a flash, Gaston pushed the fear he had felt directly into her veins as he tore at her dress sharply, twisting the expensive fabric as if it were holiday paper.

"No! NO!" she pushed against him, but Gaston hauled her up by the waist with one powerful arm, holding her clasped against him. A twisted laugh escaped his pretty lips as he pecked a mocking kiss to her brow….before throwing her bodily to the floor.

"You're mine, Belle… and you're always going to be MINE!"

Belle tried to scramble back as he came upon her, trapping her beneath him. She had not complied with him, and he was going to be cruel with her. She wanted to scream her panic, but her breath was coming in jagged gasps, making breathe difficult, let alone shouting a reality. Pain and shame thrummed through her as her turned head made out the legs of the table. In front of the baby! In the kitchen….

Gaston held her legs open with his powerful thighs as he wrestled with his belt. "You might as well get used to it…" he was saying before Belle's hearing began to recede to high static. Small cries filled her throat as he rocked on top of her, punishing her smaller form with his rigid strength. Belle felt her head knock back on the wooden floor and her flailing fingers scraped at the planking.

Up and down, up and down, her vision swayed with Gaston's movements, going white at the edges. Good, go out… just go out….

Suddenly, pure cold clasped the sides of her face and Belle gazed straight up… and into familiar blue eyes. "I'm here, Belle… look at me. Look only at me!" The Beast gasped and Belle cried out sharply. She clawed a hand upward…. And fell into darkness as Gaston finished slaking his pleasure.

That hadn't been as pleasurable as he'd hoped…. Gaston regarded Belle's unconscious form with barely guarded disgust as he adjusted his clothing. She had pushed him to it, told him she had loved that BEAST, by God..!

He swiped a spoon from the table and stepped over Belle's legs to eat straight from the stewpot. Belle was only a passing good cook, but she was his wife. She would get better as time went on. In every single way….

Gaston tugged on his cloak and clanged back out without another look. His domain, the tavern, called and he could surely use a drink.

As the back door banged shut, Louie cried in his basket, helpless as his mother lay unconscious on the floor. A flickering outline snapped into view slowly, hovering over the basket until the infant stopped crying. A giggle fell from the bubbling lips of the baby as a furred visage he was most familiar with, beset with flashing blue jewels of eyes, gazed down at him.

"Hush, little one, it's going to be alright," The Beast intoned gruffly. Louie grinned in return.

End for now.

End Note: This came out darker than I had intended! Let's just say I was feeling it, so away we go. I like how I got the Beast in this story somehow anyway… and above all, what'atya think? Like it, hate it? Any suggestions or comments? Please, review and let me know! I would love to know what any of you think, and it only takes a second!

Sincerely yours, penpaninu

12/15/10


	4. Ethereal Guardianship

Author's Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing.

Author's note: The Beast is back! Well, as much as he CAN be in this story…. Why did I decide to go this dark route? Remember back when you first saw the film, he actually DOES die, openly and onscreen and back when Disney had the balls to show that, and blood from his wound. That blew my mind as a kid, that the hero could die. And did! Sure Belle cashing in on the three magic words found a loophole around that whole death business, but he frickin' died! I just wanted to go with that unforeseen fear from back then, and look what happened. Enjoy, my lovelies and above all, let me know what you think.

"Crushed Rose Petals" chapter four

"Ethereal Guardianship"

His Belle was sprawled unconscious on the floor. Endlessly he tried to touch her, reassure her, in her moments of pain and sorrow; even now as he kneeled down, pawing uselessly at her yet again. He knew every time he wouldn't be able to touch her firmly, but every time he saw her this way, his heart got the better of him.

Every time her husband claimed her, the Beast tried to hold her face away from what he was doing; even now as he passed a clear paw through her arm. Be as it may, he couldn't touch Gaston, to fling him off of Belle the way he wanted to…and he had tried to, several, SEVERAL times. As this harsh realization had settled in, the Beast had to content with trying to reach Belle and pull her away from her reality by drawing her into dreams, where he could reach her.

She didn't know how often he was at her side, talking to her! She didn't see him when he tried to cup her face and hold her gaze, each and every time that Gaston took her body roughly for his own.

But tonight, she HAD seen him! It was enough to give his shade a glimmer of hope, but a sliver of hope was all he was allowed. He may be attached to Belle's side, but it was all the more torturous that she couldn't touch or see him in return.

Now that his spirit had been cut free, unfettered from his mutilated body, he had drifted as fast as lightning to Belle, always his Belle, and stayed there, always ethereal by her side. And his heart broke along with hers, through her father's incarceration, through the wedding, every rape and beating, and the pregnancy that had stopped Belle from running away to safety at his palace.

He knew his servants would have welcomed her and any child she carried, even were it not his. The Beast waggled his see-through claws sadly over the baby's basket and Louie made a grab for them, sneezing at the cold he brought. "Can't catch me, I know," he murmured deeply.

How sad that was! His spirit had been with Belle every nasty moment this pregnancy had offered, from sickness to exhaustion. And unbeknownst to her, he had been sitting at her side when the baby had been born, whereas the blood father had not even bothered to be present (Gaston having chosen to booze it up with his tavern buddies instead). He had been there, so the child should surely be his!

He considered this child more his anyway, as it was his lovely Belle who had had him. He didn't even resemble Gaston at all, but more over was the spitting image of Belle, despite the color of his dark eyes. And why couldn't he be his? The Beast's engulfing sadness forced his ethereal hands wide. If only he could hold him! He would shield him from all harm, and how lovely it would be to carry him into the room where Belle's smile for him would light up his heart once more…

The Beast snuffed and turned towards Belle's fallen form, his eyes wide with regret. If only he could hold HER! He would sweep her away in his powerful arms, hold her more tightly than he had in ballroom finery and take her away from all of this. In that day in the library, he had said the story she had read to him had made him forget for a little while…. Were they back in that day, and they could both forget the day they were in now! A fool, that's what he was… a fool!

Too late, in death he learned she had fallen in love with him in return. The Beast didn't care that in death his shade remained a Beast still…. But she had loved him, loved him STILL in fact, and it was enough to kill him all over again that he could not live a loving life with Belle as his wife.

His feelings of love, guilt, shame and regret did not diminish from his corporeal spirit, but did not stab as harshly as when he was living flesh.

It was not to say he did not feel them. If what he were feeling were strong enough, he marveled at his Belle's strength to suffer the barbed edges of sorrow and guilt as she thought of him each and every day.

"But I am here, Belle," the Beast knelt beside her and passed a hand over her hair, glowing claws sinking through the side of her head. "I'm still here…."

Belle was knocked out, and just as well. After what Gaston had done to her, her body deserved the much needed rest.

It would have to be in dreams, then.

A quick glance to ensure that Louie would be alright and not jostle his basket off of the table; and the Beast bent his brow to Belle's forehead. His goatee floated down and mingled through Belle's chin, and breathing out slowly, strings of clear ectoplasm floated from his lips to Belle's upturned mouth.

A ghostly kiss, as close as he could get to feeling her truly… and the Beast's spirit tumbled deep inside Belle's mind to her dreaming place. Sharp edges painted a ghoulish image of the town square outside. Social gossip and inclinations from her link to Gaston now overlapped with her childhood memories of moving to the town as a young girl, making the landscape frightening and unyielding to traverse.

The Beast hung his head and looked rapidly for Belle in the dream mush. He thought he had it worse once the spell had been cast, but Belle had had to suffer the verbal slings and barbs because she and her father were different; they were dreamers, readers and inventors.

She had been as different as he.

The Beast marveled again at this similarity and trod on ghostly clawed feet through the cobblestoned streets that seemed to yawn wide in all directions. Belle…. Belle…

There she was! She struggled to move against the wavering streets, a heavy maroon dress anchoring her to the spot. The Beast recognized it as the torn dress she was barely wearing now, passed out on the kitchen floor. He stepped through pointing outlines of blackened people and took her arm gently.

"Belle…" he murmured, and his heart broke all over again as her face flew up to stare into his eyes. Bewilderment and relief then flooded her beauty and Belle jumped to embrace him, both arms flinging about his massive neck. Her heavy dress cascaded away to turn into a simple pink gown she had worn at the castle. Freed from the heavy fabric, her legs went up with her leap, so that he was forced to catch her. How he didn't mind!

"Oh, Beast! Beast! How I've missed you!" she sobbed. The Beast enfolded her in his arms, the edges of his cape keeping her from unwanted eyes. He glared hard at the dreamscape and the twisted town square faded away to green grassy fields in high spring. They were part of the garden grounds of his castle, and Belle's dreaming mind always cast them there to be together. The Beast didn't mind it, for his home had become hers… and she surely had felt safe there.

"Be strong, Belle…. I'm here with you," the Beast murmured gently, the edges of his goatee brushing the top of Belle's head. His body was firm against hers, he could feel her, reach her!... He knew it was only in her dream, making sadness wring his heart, and Belle didn't seem to know that until she awoke. It pained him that she didn't know she was only dreaming now and thought this was real! The pain would be harsher for both of them once she awoke.

Belle pressed sweetly to him, her cheek pressed against his cravat and collar. The fur beneath ruffled gently and, with eyes closed blissfully, Belle held onto him. Let this last for always….

Too soon her brown eyes opened up to his blue and her palm rubbed the soft fur of his cheek. "But I'm home… I don't need to be strong," Belle confided. The Beast held her close, tears leaking from his eyes. "Why ever are you crying, Beast?"

"Oh!... Nothing, it is nothing," The Beast smiled, his eyes wet. "I'm just so happy to be here with you…"

"And I, with you," Belle leaned up and kissed his cheek. Beast's eyes closed, and he couldn't help the tears that matted the fur on his cheeks, then. His arms clasped her small body tenderly….please, God, let this last!

Darkness seemed to dip the edges of the garden grounds, intruding on their sunny day. The Beast walked away with Belle towards the edges of the trees. Beneath the safe foliage, he set her to her feet, holding her close. "Belle, there is something I have to ask you… please, it's very important."

"Anything, dear Beast," Belle smiled impishly, her heart in her eyes. The Beast's heart hung heavy and his large palm engulfed the side of her entire face.

"Belle… do you know where Gaston hid the Mirror?"

Fear lanced through the happy moment and Belle almost bent double, the edges of her going wispy. The Beast grabbed onto her, his hands warm only in these dream spaces. Please, not now! "Belle, don't go! You have to find it….remember that, you have to find it!"

"G-Gaston?" Belle stuttered, pain scouring her middle. Her hands went to her middle and in astonishment, brought blood-soaked palms up to her shocked gaze. With a cry of fear, she held them up to the Beast. The Beast's heart went cold, that he had frightened her lucid self to her fears…. And remembered a night when he had not dared move an inch from her side, when she had almost miscarried Louie… He held her stained palms between his, hiding them. "Mon dieu!"

"Do not fear, Belle! I am with you, do not fear! Just find the mirror…find it!"

"Beast?" Belle cried, fear and confusion in her gaze. A thundering cry, like of a mammoth bird, split the sunny sky and the dark clouds gathered closer to the pair. "The baby?..."

She was remembering the waking world… The Beast wrapped his arms desperately around her, a sob wrenching from his throat. He didn't want this to end, but he had to get her to find the mirror… if she did, and gazed at her father, he might be able to find the asylum… he was trapped, wantingly trapped, but trapped only with her. But with the mirror, he might be able to find a way to help!...

"Belle, please know I'm with you every moment of your day! Find the mirror… and I'll find your father! Find it…please!"

Belle reached, fingers outstretched as his massive form filtered away like unwanted smoke. No! "Beast! Beast!" she cried, not understanding.

Cold lips pressed briefly against hers and she closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"I love you," he whispered softly.

And Belle slammed to consciousness, cold and half naked on the hard wooden floor. Louie cried and cried in his basket way up on the table. Belle blinked, her eyes still wet. That dream…it had seemed so real! The Beast had been there…he had said something important to her…and had kissed her!

Belle gathered the remains of her dress around her and sobbed, her mouth cupped into her palm. Together, she cried with her infant son.

The Beast's ghost stood in the corner of the kitchen, blue eyes sorrowful. "Don't forget, Belle…you must find the mirror."

He waited for Belle to stand up, so he could follow.

End for now

End Note: Now that I've thrown a plot piece, or a mcguffin in, I think this story might get close to somewhere than depressing. What do you think? Please review, takes only a moment! The dream elements are taken loosely from the way Beauty dreams of the prince in the original fairy tale. Always liked those bits a little too much! I hope to write more this weekend at work, until then, adieu!

Come on, review, you know you want to… you all have so much more to say than my clumsy writing, I know it..

Sincerely, yours, penpaninu

12/16/10


	5. Belle's Strategy

Author Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing…

Author Note: Not much to say other than there are gonna be some boo's by this end of this one, I'm sure. Although there are some Gaston fans, and I say welcome to him and all…

"Crushed Rose Petals" chapter five

"Belle's Strategy"

That night was one of the longest in her married life that Belle could remember. She had woken from a bittersweet dream about the Beast that left her crying, more so than usual. Belle dreamed of him almost every night, but this time had seemed more real, more fluid. What he had said was very important, but she couldn't piece back together the fabric of their conversation…If only she could remember! What had they said together..?

And coming to consciousness, half naked and shivering, the hearth fire slowly dying to embers and Louie's cries echoing in her ears, Belle was overcome with unfathomable sorrow. This was her life now! This was all she had to look forward to! Bruises up and down her body, sore thighs and tears welling her eyes shut… Belle lifted trembling hands up to her reddened gaze and buried her face in the aching palms.

"I couldn't save you, dear Beast… I couldn't save you!" she sobbed. The Beast's spirit knelt beside her, and unseen, unheard, he tried to stroke her hair.

"I will help you find a way out of all of this… I swear it, Belle," he murmured. Belle remembered a cold pressing to her lips and stood, dazed, reaching for her son. Louie was rocking his basket precariously close to the table's edge. His cries grew less ragged as he was pressed to Belle's familiar warmth. The Beast watched with a flush of longing as Belle held his fuzzy brown scalp toward a naked breast and the cries stopped.

The simplest joys of life could not be enjoyed, not by he, not by she, for the tears wouldn't stop streaming down Belle's cheeks as her son nursed. It was never the life Belle had envisioned for herself, Beast knew. He settled on the table beside them, weightless, and watched his impromptu family.

The night was still young, and weary wakefulness snapped at her. Slowly, Belle went in search of a simple robe and cleaned up the broken bowls from the kitchen floor. Making sure the hearth fire was indeed going out, Belle carried Louie, bundled up into the shape of two small infants, out to the small shack outside Gaston had fashioned for a bath house.

The small wood structure was tightly sealed with pitch, blocking all of the outside elements, and drew water from an underground pool. Were she so inclined, Belle could drop heated stones in to heat the cool, clear water, but she had neither the energy or will. Rocking Louie's basket, Belle shucked off her robe and stepped into the tepid water. The Beast watched as goose bumps dotted her bare flesh, feeling more than a little worried. It was full-on winter, and she hadn't heated the water….And she was so thin!

Belle sneezed almost in response and sat down, going up to her neck. She exploded suddenly in a cascade of droplets. Seizing a brush laying on a nearby rock, Belle scrubbed hard at her belly and thighs. Tears squeezed out of her eyes as a sob wrenched her middle. The Beast sat half in the water, half out, watching her.

"Your father, Belle… Think of him…" he suggested. Belle watched her son wriggle in his layers in his basket and wiped her face.

'Oh, Papa… What can I do for you?' The last time she had seen him, Maurice had been sick and rabid with fear. The fringe of hair on his scalp stood straight out in white tufts and his asylum gown had been torn and stained; whether from sick or spilled food, Belle couldn't say. She wished she could see him now…. But, wait, there could be a way to…

"The Mirror," she murmured aloud and the Beast's head lifted. He laughed as a spark filled Belle's eyes. Biting her lip that way meant she was thinking, and thinking hard.

"You just needed a friendly reminder," The Beast smiled and made to lift her chin with a claw. Belle sneezed and the Beast withdrew when her nose began to run. Belle ran her fingers through her damp hair and tugged her robe on, thinking hard. After the attack at the castle, she had been half comatose the next day, crying herself ragged to the edge, and going in and out of consciousness from the head blow she had gotten form Gaston in the melee.

Gaston had put her essentially on house arrest, being kept in by the older women of the village obstentiously to prepare for the wedding. Gaston had been covetous of her first day setting foot back in this village, and he could have hidden the mirror almost anywhere. Would he have destroyed it? Belle hugged her arms and thought. There would be no reason for Gaston to find a way back to the castle… he had gotten what he had wanted, after all.

And then some.

The only way to find out what had happened to the Mirror, would be to play nice. Do what he wanted, exactly, and try to shrug this soul-weary exhaustion aside, if for a little while to try and stay two steps ahead.

That would mean voluntarily touching him. Kissing him. Even…

The thought turned Belle's stomach. She stroked a finger down Louie's chubby face as his dark eyes fluttered shut. It couldn't be so hard, could it? Just voluntarily pamper and touch the man who had killed her beloved… everyone did things they didn't want to, right?

"You're going to help me too, you know," Belle commented aloud to her son. Louie grabbed onto her finger and clenched hard in his sleep. She had done what Gaston had always wanted, and bore him a child. Better in his primeval mind, he was a boy and therefore Belle knew he didn't exactly despise her for having a male.

But she'd be damned if she'd let Louie be raised in this house to get to an age where he would be expected to go hunting with his father. Belle had seen first-hand what it had done to Gaston…

The Beast smiled as Belle gathered the basket to brave the cold to re-enter the house. She may not understand completely why she felt the overwhelming urge to find the Mirror all of a sudden, but she was going to search for it just the same. And when Belle gazed at her father, the Beast knew his spirit would be able to find the asylum. If Maurice were not held prisoner, Belle would need no reason to stay here. And she would be free to run…

"And when you reach the castle, you can live there until old age. Your son will be my heir, and eventually… you can come back to me," the Beast murmured beside Belle's ear as she laid Louie in his crib. Belle felt the cold and looked around. That was funny, she had felt the same cold before she had blacked out and Gaston had left here there.

Belle pulled on a nightgown and pulled back the heavy fur coverlets on the bed. She slid into the cold bed and tried to wrap herself into a cocoon to get warm. It was so damned cold in here! The analogy to her marriage was just too damned astute. Belle ran her strategy through her head as she nodded off, curled tight into a fetal position. Play nice and give him what he wants…. And find the Mirror.

And figure out what to do next to help Papa…

Belle broke out of a dead sleep to Gaston jostling the covers off of her. She started and leaned up on her elbows, trying to see in the pitch dark. A very drunk Gaston was trying to get into bed, kick off his boots and take off his clothes all at the same time. And he was cursing loudly when he couldn't do any of the three.

"Dammit all to hell! Uhn!" he moaned, sitting heavily on the edge and pulling at his accursed footwear. Belle cringed inside and almost curled back into a ball. Any other night, she would have, in high hopes he would be too smash-faced to want anything else of her. But now…

Gaston started when he felt Belle's hands on his shoulders. "Myuh? Belle? Why are you still up?" he slurred.

"Helping you. Just sit still…" Belle closed her eyes, then went to her knees to tug at the offending boots. She had knelt before the Beast once… The Beast watched the scene play out, remembering this as well. The high-backed chair against his hunched back, and Belle's warm damp hands pressing the rag against the scratches in his arm…

"Thank you… for saving my life," she had confessed, wariness dropping from her gaze. Immortal words that had unlocked his heart.

Gaston sat back, breathing heavily in the darkness.

"You're never awake…" he said, confusion lacing his words. His clever mind was trying to turn over through his inebriation. Belle lined his boots up, and held her nose against his stocking feet.

"Well, I heard you come back," she said. She made to move back around the bed, but Gaston grabbed her wrist. He eased out of his tunic and shucked it to the floor. Belle stood ready, her eyes wide in the dark. Gaston's mouth parted and he took Belle's lips for his own.

The Beast looked up from the baby's crib and his brows raised all the way up to his horns. What was this..? The Beast watched, shallowly dim, as Belle stood still and accepted Gaston's kiss. If he were living, he would have forgotten how to breathe. His heart would have dropped to his feet. He faltered, went out, barely came back. He seethed in half broken dreams.

"Belle…" the Beast murmured, his heart shattering. Was this an act? It had to be! Belle didn't twine her arms round Gaston's neck, but her faltering palms were pressed up against the broad wall of his muscled chest.

But she was still there, participating in that kiss. The kiss that didn't seem to want to STOP…

Belle, on her end, had to think of the Beast's magnificent blue eyes and smile to keep on kissing her husband. He smelled vastly different, a mixture of male reek and blood instead of freshly fallen leaves… and worse, his hands were pale, hairless things, and his chest devoid of the pelt of fur the Beast had had (never mind the curls across Gaston's pecs he boasted often about).

The Beast's shade, as he heartbrokenly watched her, could not begin to understand the thoughts she had had to think to endure Gaston's touch just now. She allowed herself to be dawdled across his lap without one word of complaint.

The Beast's ghost shimmered and faded out as Gaston pushed Belle back on the bed.

End for now

End note: And let the arrows fly! Seriously though, it's dark, but I think it's a good strategy. Let me know what you think. Like it? Hate it? Drop a review, please!

Sincerely, penpaninu

12/26/10


End file.
